


Don't Drown On Me

by wilderness-child (Herodias)



Series: You Never Heard My Song Before, The Music Was Too Loud [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Don't Try Suicide, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Sad, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, but I guess it's open to interpretation, don't think it really qualifies as Frian, this song is incredibly frustrating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-23 05:37:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18147794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herodias/pseuds/wilderness-child
Summary: “Are you really blaming Munich for your depression?”“ ‘Course not.” His eyes regained focus, and the ghost of a smile crossed his lips “Just wanted to share a fun fact.”“It’s not very funny.”“Nor is your song.”orHow did "Don't Try Suicide" came to be





	Don't Drown On Me

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in something like half an hour, while I should've been studying. Also, English is not my native language. Hope it isn't too bad

“I’ve got a new song. You should probably hear it.”  
  
Brian stopped on the doorstep, frozen. He didn’t expect to find anyone in the studio on a Friday night, especially not Freddie.  
The singer was sitting by the piano; he seemed to be concentrated on some paper, new lyrics maybe. He hadn’t even looked up when he heard him come in.

“It’s… It’s midnight. How come you’re still working?” he managed to ask, overcoming the initial surprise.

“I could ask you the same question. No, I’ve got a better one: how come you suddenly remember we’ve got an album to record on a Friday night, after having disappeared for almost a week?”  
Freddie’s voice was totally blank, it was impossible to read any emotion in it. This was new.

Brian didn’t know how to defend himself. Not being able to understand how much pissed off Freddie was making him feel even more anxious. One wrong word and the result could’ve been a catastrophe.

The best option was to lie, to make up a silly excuse. He couldn’t think of any. He couldn’t tell the truth either. _“Hey, I was just trying to avoid my bandmates, and any kind of social interaction. The only reason why I got up of bed a couple of hours ago is that I was feeling guilty because I have abandoned the album and I’ve got a job to do and God I’m so fucking useless. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m off to play a solo or two, so you can release the damn thing and I can go back to bed till the next tour. Sounds great, doesn’t it?”_  
He kept his mouth shut, still standing on the doorstep.

“Come here - said the singer, patting on the stool - Song. Now.”

Brian obeyed.  
Being physically close to his bandmates had never bothered him - none of them had the concept of personal space - but right now, on that stool too small for two grown men, he felt uncomfortable. He took a deep breath, fighting the urge to run away.

Freddie’s fingers caressed the keyboard and soon he started to sing

_So you think it's the easy way out?_  
_Think you're gonna slash your wrists_  
_This time_  
_Baby when you do it all you do is_  
_Get on my tits_

“What the hell…?” he whispered, confused.

_You need help_  
_Look at yourself you need help_  
_You need life_  
_So don't hang yourself_  
_It's ok ok ok ok_  
_You just can't be a prick teaser all of the time_

He couldn’t bring himself to keep listening to that, whatever that was. Was it a joke? A really, really bad joke?

“Stop it! - he nearly screamed, then his voice suddenly dropped - What the hell is this supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I’m not sure, Bri. I was hoping you could help me figure it out.”

For the first time ever, Brian felt truly scared of Freddie. He was scared of how calm he appeared to be, despite him being obviously furious.

“Do you think I’m an idiot? Did you think we wouldn’t have noticed?”

This was worse than he thought. Maybe he could still keep up appearances, he only had to come up with something clever, he only had to show himself confident and convincing.  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Shit. That was neither confident nor convincing; if anything, it was a pathetic attempt to keep things bottled up, and it wasn’t going to work.

Freddie grabbed his right arm, just below the elbow. Brian howled in pain, but didn’t try to get away; the grip was too firm, and he would’ve ended up hurting himself. _“The wound will reopen and bleed and oh fuck what am I going to do?”_

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about.” he said, revealing the white bandages beneath the shirt.  
“Well, is there anything you would like to say in your defence?”

Brian didn’t dare to look up. He kept his eyes on the keyboard, without being able to see it behind the tears.

They stood like that for what felt like an eternity, Brian silently weeping and Freddie still grabbing his friend’s arm.  
Finally, the singer spoke. “Bri?” His voice had softened; the situation was complicated enough without him shouting and being mad.  
“Brimi, please, say something…”

It took him a while to recover from his almost catatonic state. “Have you… have you ever heard of the Foehn?”  
He turned his head towards Freddie, but it was like he wasn’t able to see him, like he wasn’t even aware of the other man’s presence. Freddie was seriously getting worried.  
“It’s a dry and warm wind. Apparently, when it blows people go nuts and… you know… commit suicide. Do you have the faintest idea of how many people jump off this very building?”

“Are you really blaming Munich for your depression?”

“ ‘Course not.” His eyes regained focus, and the ghost of a smile crossed his lips “Just wanted to share a fun fact.”

“It’s not very funny.”

“Nor is your song.”

Freddie pulled him into a tight embrace. He hadn’t expected Bri to react that way, giving him a taste of his own medicine. It was a good sign, to be honest; it meant it was not too late, it meant he could still reach him and pull him off the edge.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Brian sobbed, resting his head on his friend’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, darling. Everything is going to be fine, I promise - His hand wandered gently through the dark curls, hoping to calm him down - And I want you to remember that I love you, no matter what, and that Rog and Deaky love you. But we can’t help you if you don’t let us. Please, stop hiding from us. Stop slipping away.”

Those words made him cry harder. He felt ashamed, and guilty. He certainly didn’t deserve such loving and caring friends, and they shouldn’t have to carry his burden.

When the situation seemed to be under control - or rather when Brian didn’t have any tears left - Freddie took a step back. “Better?”

Things looked pretty dark, and he doubted they were going to get better any time soon. Still, he nodded. He couldn’t let Freddie down, could he?

“So, do you want me to take you back… - When he noticed the desperate look on the other man’s face, he changed question; his eyes were begging him not to leave him alone. - I mean, do you feel like playing? Any song you’d like to work on?”

The guitarist thought about it, then made up his mind. “What about the new one?”

“Sure, which one… - The realisation suddenly hit him - Oh. Are you serious?”

Brian managed to smile, really smile, for the first time in a very long time. “Yeah, why not? It’s the peak of black humor. Fans are totally gonna hate it. Besides, I need something to remind me how much of a prick teaser I am, don’t I?”

“No need for that, darling. That’s precisely my role in you life.”

They giggled, as they sat back by the piano. Maybe things weren’t so dark, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Never a song has disturbed me as much as “Don’t Try Suicide”, and that’s probably because the first time I heard it I was feeling suicidal; it sounded like a bad joke at best, and disrespectful at worst. It really didn’t make sense, especially considering that Freddie knows how to write songs about suicide (yes, talking about Keep Passing The Open Windows). And it bugged me that Brian “two steps nearer to my grave” May was okay with it.  
> Then I realised I was missing the point. This is plain British humor; nothing more, nothing less. And I felt silly for not getting it before, since I’m the queen of British and black humor.  
> I’m still not totally fine with the song. I find it brilliant, but the little depressed girl inside of me does not. So I wrote this as an attempt to come to terms with it. I don’t really like the execution (my style used to be so much better a few years ago) but it felt good writing after such a long time. I think I’m more at peace with myself now.
> 
> Thanks to anyone who has read my story. I’d love to hear your opinions in the comments!  
> Rodya


End file.
